


never for money, always for love

by fortunate



Category: Great Pretender (Anime)
Genre: 3+1 Things, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Competitive Edamura Makoto, Competitive Romantic Gestures, Con Artists, Established Relationship, Heist, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Smitten Laurent Thierry, Writing Because Bad Art Is Better Than No Art
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-23
Updated: 2021-02-23
Packaged: 2021-03-13 07:21:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29647782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fortunate/pseuds/fortunate
Summary: Dumb as it sounded, Makoto realized that planning a good marriage proposal was kind of like preparing a con.Or; three times Makoto tried to propose to Laurent, and one time he succeeded.
Relationships: Edamura Makoto & Team Confidence, Edamura Makoto/Laurent Thierry
Comments: 5
Kudos: 30





	never for money, always for love

**Author's Note:**

> I apologize for any mistakes that might've slipped during editing, English is not my first language. 
> 
> Also, a quick note: This is _slightly_ au. Basically, Makoto knew what he was getting into in Case 4, so he didn't really contact the past con victims at the end of the case and blames Laurent a little less for his problems. (Still not an Oz fan, though.) This change isn't really referenced in the text, but I guess it might explain my characterization of Makoto a bit better.
> 
> TDLR: I'm too lazy to write a reconciliation arc. Season 2 wasn't traumatizing to Edamura.
> 
> the title is from the most romantic song ever: This Must Be The Place by the Talking Heads

Makoto woke up at three a.m. with three break-in notifications at the coffee shop. The equivalent of someone knocking impatiently at your door when your friends are international con artists that never text before a visit. After a dramatic sigh, he rolled over to stand up, only to hear the toilet flushing in his apartment. 

Laurent walked out of the bathroom casually, like he hadn’t left him for two months, and smiled warmly at him. His hair was shorter than usual, letting some gray show. Also, he had a busted lip, but his relaxed posture was much the same. “You sleep like a rock.” He noted, quietly. A futile gesture, since Makoto was already rubbing at his eyes and sitting up. His alarm beeped again, ridiculously  _ urgent _ . Then again, that was the point of those fancy smart alarms.

“Abbie woke me up,” Makoto complained, squinting at his phone screen. The blurry security camera showing his best friend struggling to turn on an espresso machine half her size. 

Laurent laughs softly against his hair as he peeks over his shoulder. Makoto, feeling an annoying sprout of affection towards his annoying boyfriend, stands up suddenly. “How was Mexico?”

Laurent smiled and started monologuing, never skipping the chance to make fun of his team members endearingly (and a bit condescendingly, but he’d never admit it), while Edamura got dressed. The monologue continued in the car, and as he turned off the security systems and let them into the shop. 

Because they had zero boundaries, Cynthia was yelling at his espresso machine while Abbie sat on the counter, cross-legged and barefoot, eating a croissant without a plate. After being graced with what could barely count as a proper greeting after breaking into private property, Makoto took their drink orders, and upon opening a bag of his house brew, found that the smell was off. 

Not bad off. It was a subtle enough difference that anyone else probably wouldn’t’ve noticed. Still, it was enough for three-hours-of-sleep-Makoto to notice, a big enough difference to be completely undeniable. “Mexican coffee beans?” He asked towards his intruder’s table, interrupting Cynthia’s version of how the con went down. Of course, it was strikingly different from Laurent’s, the crucial difference being she was much drunker in the blond’s version and he didn’t save the day as often in hers. Abby was the only reliable narrator, but she was too tired to comment. 

Laurent looked back at him and smiled. “From Oaxaca. They’re quite strong.” Makoto smelled the beans again. 

That’s a six-hour flight from Los Cabos, where the con took place, Makoto learns from Abbie’s complaint. Laurent doesn’t seem to mind. Why would he? That was the only way to make Edamura’s face soften involuntarily; by getting his guard down with an Abby compliant. As they drink it, Laurent tells him about trying and hating Café de Olla, and promises to make it for him sometime. The thought is horrifying, Laurent’s coffee skills are terrible. But the grounds make a good, strong blend and he finds himself curious. 

Curious enough, that hours later, after Cynthia brings out a comically big bottle of tequila and convinces him to drink, Makoto mumbles into Laurent’s ear:

“Let’s have a honeymoon in Oaxaca.” It’s impulsive and stupid, but, somehow, completely honest. Even if he didn’t mean for it to be. He means to regret saying it, but he can’t quite bring himself to take it back when Laurent replies by kissing his future ring finger softly. 

* * *

  
  


Since his slip up at the Coffee Shop, Laurent wouldn’t shut up about their wedding. And, being Laurent, he didn’t need words to be loud (although he used them, often). Normal-looking customers would leave travel magazines with top wedding destination articles, Edamura’s email address was “accidentally” added to a jewelry store’s mailing list, and several weddings asked him if he’d do catering. It wasn’t long until his phone’s algorithm caught up and started pestering with the wedding-related ads, too. 

Makoto didn’t mind too much. Spending his life with Laurent wasn’t as terrifying as it might’ve been before. Now that he was free from conning, the subliminal messages appeared less manipulative and more “crazy boomer boyfriend’s version of a joint Pinterest board”. The fundamental problem was the lack of secrecy Lauren’t secret agents generated. 

After all, Makoto still needed to propose. And, knowing Laurent, if Makoto’s proposal was underwhelming, he might decline. Just to get him grumpy. 

But Makoto wasn’t about to ask his father for help. He was prideful, and rightfully so. Plus, his father might just double-cross him and help Laurent upstage his proposal. Or  _ worse _ , think he is welcome to attend the wedding. 

Dumb as it sounded, Makoto realized that a good marriage proposal was kind of like a con. 

He sat with the thought for a minute, thinking of the irony. He didn’t think marriage was a scam, although he  _ had  _ thought about getting wedding-cake-toppers that featured a handcuffed Edamura and cheery-looking Laurent. But thinking about it as a con might  _ work _ . Out of nowhere, proposal inspiration suddenly struck.

* * *

The first attempt was simple, but good conning often came from simplicity, and if he was honest, his favorite days with Laurent were boring. Mundane things, like going to a supermarket and spending hours exchanging vocabulary or walking around together, felt almost luxurious to Makoto when his boyfriend was involved. Seeing Laurent stripped of all the careful little lies he surrounded himself with, seeing him be truly himself, made Makoto’s heart flutter like nothing else, even if he rolled his eyes at most of his future husband’s antics. When he first met him, his performance had enamored him: a cool bachelor criminal straight from a Hollywood film. But they had too much history by now for Makoto to see that as more than a mask, despite the similarities it had to Laurent’s actual personality.

So, here they were, in a luxury mall Laurent insisted on visiting anytime he was in town, ready to spend his hard scammed money on dumb things the original owner would’ve  _ hated _ . 

Laurent, who hadn’t shut up about their wedding for weeks, was awfully quiet, but then again, Makoto was uncharacteristically chatty, complaining about all customers he vaguely remembered from the previous week. His boyfriend seemed to find it amusing, only piping in to tease him, until he stopped walking abruptly, placing a hand on Makoto’s chest to stop him, too. In front of them was a designer store Makoto recognized as the one Laurent took him to when they first arrived at Los Angeles. 

Makoto acted surprised, interrupting his anecdote with a soft “ _ oh.” _ He placed his hand over Laurent’s on his chest and draped it over his shoulders, before walking into the store. “I think I owe you a shirt.”

Laurent seemed surprised but pleased. Makoto caught the mischief in Laurent’s eye, but it was practically ever-present, so he didn’t even think much of it as they walked into the store.

Makoto, using his best boss voice, ordered shop assistants to take Laurent’s measurements, smiling to himself as they pushed him towards a changing room. Holding back his laughter as Laurent complained that customer service had been better in America. 

Throughout his relationship, Makoto had noticed the pleasure Laurent got from his clothes. The way he ran his hands over silk and pressed his face against the linen. How he’d play with the hem of his fancier shirts. While Makoto felt like elegant clothes were a prison, a costume permanently associated in his mind with the lies he’d told, Laurent wore them proudly. Maybe it was the bit of him that still dreamt of playing diplomat. The reason didn’t matter, Makoto had met no one who enjoyed his clothes as much as his husband-to-be, so he’d surprised him with a shirt. Knowing him, he’d be scanning all of it, looking for stitches that needed to be fixed, and soon enough he’d find Makoto’s surprise, a yes or no question embroidered into a tag in gold thread. 

He waited for Laurent to come out of the changing room, trying his best to listen in what was happening inside. He couldn’t help but regret not coming in, he’d love to see Laurent’s face, the way his eyes would widen for a second. A sudden burst of joyous laughter came from behind the curtain that divided Makoto and Laurent. 

That was  _ probably _ a yes since he recognized the tone as his boyfriend’s amusement. Which wasn’t really what he was going for, as his furrowed brows gave away? Makoto took a moment to look at himself in the mirror, just to make sure his hair was the correct sort of messy when Laurent came out to explain himself and probably confess his undying love. Then, he noticed a small pink sticky-note in the glass. 

**_結婚して下さい？ - Laurent_ **

The characters were wonky bordering on illegible, the more complicated ones taking up most of the space, leaving the signature to be squeezed in-between spaces at the bottom. It was perfect only because it was ridiculous. If the light hit the small piece of paper from a side angle, Makoto could see the ghosts of various attempts marked on the note. It didn’t matter. Makoto read it again, just to make sure his eyes weren’t fooling him. His dumbass boyfriend had asked in his language. Edamura laughed, suddenly understanding Laurent. 

Laurent came back, shirt unbuttoned and a small square box in hand. Makoto’s laughter died suddenly as he felt his throat drying up as Laurent walked towards him. “Would you believe me, if I told you this was a coincidence?” 

Makoto shouldn’t. But then again, Abby wouldn’t double-cross him like that, even if Laurent had recruited him before. The clothing company was completely fake but Cynthia managed most of it, and they’d made sure Laurent didn’t find out. He obviously  _ had _ , but Abigail had set up a minor con involving a ballet competition as a backup, so Edamura’s gut told him. For the first time, Laurent hadn’t genuinely been trying to upstage him. He smiled and pulled his boyfriend in for a kiss. 

If they were more sentimental, Makoto  _ would  _ walk out wearing whatever was in the small box Laurent had in his hand. He  _ was _ tremendously curious; he knew Laurent could be very careful when picking anything  _ material _ and was a talented gift giver. However, the thrill of  _ competition  _ together with the rush of emotion he didn’t know grand romantic gestures brought to the table was addictive. Makoto pulled away and staring intently into Laurent’s eyes whispered: 

“I’m withdrawing my proposal,” Edamura said, he felt a rush of adrenaline as Laurent put the small velvet box in his hands. 

“I’m flattered,” Laurent said, affection spilling into his tone against his will. Rather than dissuade him, it made Makoto more excited for what he was about to reveal. 

“I’m not accepting yours. I’m asking for a rematch.” He smiled, pushing the box back in his lover’s palm, before he snuck the sticky-note into his jean pocket, careful not to crumple it. Laurent smirked, like he knew it was coming, even if his eyes betrayed his surprise. “May the best proposal win.” He said, before leaning in to seal the deal with a chaste kiss. 

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it!


End file.
